


Rebuilding

by Arsoemon



Series: ShuKita 100 [31]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artificial Intelligence, Body Horror, Dismemberment, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Shukita - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26414386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsoemon/pseuds/Arsoemon
Summary: After her experiment goes horribly wrong, Takemi tries to pick up the pieces with a little help.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: ShuKita 100 [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485896
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	Rebuilding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrystallineAce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallineAce/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ai](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26347741) by [Arsoemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsoemon/pseuds/Arsoemon). 



> For Ace. Thank you for entertaining my strangest ideas.

“And you mean to tell me after all we’ve done to fund and protect this thing, it’s a failure?” The director is turning red as he frantically studies Takemi’s face. After what happened, she was too shaken to move from the spot and spent the night holding the remnants of her sleepless nights, her countless hours of planning, her pride and joy, second only to Miwa-Chan’s recovery. Sleep eventually came to her, rest never did. But amongst the nightmares lay an idea, a gamble.

“Unfortunately, sir.” Lucky for her, the director never came to see Yusuke after she’d refined the design and added his face. But even such an advantage may still not be enough to ensure their safety. “With a few repairs and a bit of redesigning-“

“Oh never mind! Scrap it!” He paces in front of the window. “It was an ambitious project, a pipe dream. However, it is reassuring that if even you can’t do it, there’s a good chance none of our competitors can either. This is on indefinite hold. You may return to your general practice until further notice. Dismissed.” She puts on the most polite smile she can, bows respectfully, and turns to go collect her things.

She’s gathering a handful of pens to drop into her bag when the door opens.

“Takemi,” the agent says brusquely.

“You,” she calmly looks over her shoulder. “Are you my escort to the station? Or perhaps you’ve been gifted to me as a permanent live-in chaperone?

He sneers. “Lucky for us both, I only have to make sure the lab is empty, so if you could hurry....”

“Oh alright. Since you asked so nicely,” she bats her eyelashes as she crosses the room to grab just a couple more things, washes a couple beakers, throws out the leftover wrappers from last night’s dinner.

She gives the place one last once over with a feigned obliviousness, aware of the agent’s whereabouts at all times. He’s here—under orders or of his own volition—to make sure every trace of the experiment is destroyed or taken for someone else.

The director, for all his anxious, trigger-happy tendencies, is an agreeable man. But he couldn’t possibly care for the person Yusuke was becoming, had become. That much was clear just from things getting this far in the first place. And to leave his remains to be mishandled and further mangled by the far less empathetic workers here would mean failing to protect him all over again. The thought was crushing her. So she’d schemed.

“That should do it,” she makes a show of checking one last cabinet as she watches the agent eye the sleep tank.

“Anything in here?”

“No. Shouldn’t be,” she lies convincingly.

“Then you won’t mind if I check it?” He gives a sickly sweet smile.

“Go right ahead,” she motions to the button. “You’ll probably want to put on gloves, though. Just to be safe.” The agent turns to it and studies the machine for a while longer.

“On second thought, I’ll leave it for the janitor. He turns for the door where he stands ushering her out.

She grabs her bag and gives the lab one last look before stepping out into the hall. This guy always irked her, his arrogance and condescending attitude, but the least he could’ve done is call her bluff; she’d worked so hard on assembling a double, something that could pass for what she’d spent so long perfecting. The agent sees her to the door and not a step further. She stops at the vending machines across the street to buy a snack for the road, stalling until Mr. agent loses interest and goes back inside.

As the machinery dispenses her drink, she swaps out the bag she’s holding—the one with the tiny little surveillance pen she watched him drop in—for the one in the bushes. She collects her snacks and starts walking to the station, smiling the whole way.

•

The bell rings as she steps in, door closing behind her. “One house blend, please,” she calls to the only other person in the room.

“Coming right up,” Sojiro nods once, a small smile on his face. They make pleasant small talk about the day before the conversation turns serious.

“How is he?” She’s practically holding her breath just waiting for the man’s response.

The older man fiddles with his beard. “He’s certainly looked better, but at least you can ask him yourself.” He goes to stand at the bottom of the stairs in the back of the small cafe. “Hey, kid, visitor. Yeah, hang on,” he replies to a question Takemi couldn’t hear. There’s some shuffling and a light thump from the room upstairs before Sojiro returns with Akira in tow.

She’s overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of him. She’d heard the _interrogation_ , seen what—by all accounts—was his corpse. And that was the deal he’d made after all: himself in exchange for Yusuke. She was certain she’d lost both after that afternoon. There was the slimmest chance that she could rebuild Yusuke, bring her boy back to life. And now, seeing what days ago she would’ve called impossible gives her the extra boost of hope she was needing.

Still, Sojiro was right. The boy does look rough. Sallow skin clinging to a gaunt frame; dark, sunken eyes ringed in teary red peeking out from behind a somehow even larger mess of curls. His posture is still hunched much like that of the old man who took him in years ago, but there’s an odd stiffness as if he’s being held together by bandages.

Takemi springs to her feet and meets him where he stands propped up against the restroom door. She pulls him into a tight hug and can feel that her guess about the bandages was correct. She steps back, still grasping his arms, to search his face. She wraps him in another hug he tries to return.

“I’m fine,” he nods once when she steps back again. “You wanted to see him.” Akira turns to head back upstairs.

“I wanted to see you first,” Takemi says.

“I’m fine,” he repeats unconvincingly without stopping. Sojiro sighs and motions her up.

“Do you have it?”

Takemi hands him the bag. Akira gently sets it on the desk and takes a deep breath before unzipping it. The inside is still cold from the ice packs lining it. Akira bites back a sob.

Sojiro had been receiving the dissembled parts for weeks now, and as soon as he had recovered enough to move around, Akira began to rebuild. It was hard knowing that this hand had once drawn him, that leg used to idly swing when he was happy, this heart had come to love him. But he was able to detach; these parts are not what mattered most about him.

Yet, with all the time he’s been dreading and anticipating this moment, he’s still severely unprepared to see the head. The blue-tinged lips and half-closed eyes. The lifeless face of the one he loves, a long fracture on the left temple repaired with gold like fine china.

Akira arranges the head’s hair the way it was always worn before gingerly taking it out of the bag and connecting it to the shoulders of the figure lying in the bed. He moves over, a silent invitation to Takemi to come help.

She herself is stunned. First to see her assistant truly live and breathe, and now to see her creation nearly whole again. It takes Akira glancing over his shoulder at her to put her feet in motion.

The process of connecting and tightening and refitting everything together takes hours. Akira had repaired the arms himself, removing the dents and polishing the casings, replacing the snapped cables and bolts. With Takemi replacing the skin on them, the damage is only detectable to the trained eye. They connect the charging cables and step back to inspect their work once more.

“Now we wait,” Takemi sighs, the anxiety in her voice matching that in Akira’s posture.

It’s too late to take the train, so Akira offers the couch to Takemi and opts to sleep in one of the booths downstairs, though sleep is the furthest thing from his mind. He stares into the darkness until the early rays of sun begin to seep in. His phone is nearly dead when he checks the time and rises to go back upstairs.

Takemi is just sitting up to stretch as he moves to the three power cells next to the bed, flipping each one off before pulling the wires out of the man. They both hold their breaths for an eternity, waiting for any kind of twitch to indicate their success.

Akira steps closer slowly, listening. He leans over, his ear to the man’s chest. With a deep sigh—of defeat or relief, Takemi can’t tell—he turns to look the man in the face.

“Good morning, Yusuke.”

The face of his beloved smiles, the eyelids glide open to reveal the same blue-gray gems he’d grown to look forward to gazing into every day.

“Good morning, Akira.”

Akira’s head drops onto Yusuke’s chest as his emotions finally catch up to him. Yusuke wraps his arms around him, a bit stiffly from being out of practice, and holds Akira to him as the raven-haired man cries into his chest.

•

Sojiro is sitting on the couch, stroking his beard, listening to Takemi explain the matter. Yusuke sits on the bed, his expression one of pure bliss with Akira curled up against his back and his arms wrapped around him.

“So they attempted to murder my boy to keep a robot secret. And not just any robot, but an actual weapon? And _that’s_ him?” Sojiro’s gruff, notably angry voice breaks into their snuggle time. Akira can feel Yusuke’s heart rate increase and holds him tighter.

“They asked for a weapon, and on paper at least, I delivered. But _he_ is not a weapon. _He_ didn’t order anyone’s disposal. It’s not _his_ fault,” Takemi tries to calm him.

Sojiro takes a deep breath. “No of course not. I’m not blaming him, just... kid can’t catch a break,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “Alright, so what do we need to do?”

“The plan is to just lay low. If he can blend in, let him live out his life; their life. But I want a plan just in case that asshole finds us.”

“No need to worry about that,” Sojiro smirks. “I know a girl.”

•

It takes a little time for Yusuke to adjust to life outside the lab. They’d figured out his clothing size in a fun outing to the shops; and in his free time, Yusuke browses fashion blogs and catalogues, sketching or cutting and pasting looks he’d like to try. Takemi is pleased at his fashion sense and picks up a few extra things for him each time she goes out.

After they’d gotten a good start on building his wardrobe, he’d started helping around Leblanc, and Akira continued taking mental notes. Yusuke’s skin protects him just like human skin does; scratches and cuts heal with bandages just the same. He shows no particular weakness to water—as long as all of his charging ports are properly covered. The patrons have no idea he’s not quite the same as them, though many do note just how formal and polite he is for someone so young. He’s very affectionate but only in private; downright clingy in his sleep.

His appetite is astounding, and Sojiro’s smile when he asks for seconds belies his grumbling about how he’s “eating them out of house and home.” He’s very observant and detail-oriented and will not settle for less than the best, especially where Akira, Sojiro, and Takemi are concerned. He cries tears of joy at beautiful music and artwork. He is equal parts logical and level-headed and emotional and passionate. He knows empathy.

Futaba thwarts a few tracking attempts, and there’s a close call in which a researcher from a different lab in the building almost recognized Takemi. But through all of this, Yusuke grows as a person, safe, loved, and accepted by this family made just for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Completely different tone for this one. Not sure if I’m completely done with this AU, but for now, this is the end. Thank you for reading!


End file.
